Full Frame Documentary Shorts (Volume 2)

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All Rise...

Judge Bill Gibron reviews a collection of full frame documentary shorts. And the Blurb Writer will next state that the Pope wears a funny hat.

The Charge

"I find the documentary form to be one of the most vital means of
expression in film."—Martin Scorsese, Chairman of the Board, Full
Frame Documentary Film Festival

Opening Statement

DVD has done a lot for the entertainment industry. It has exposed filmmakers
and their movies to audiences who would have otherwise missed their personal or
perverted images. It has resurrected long-lost films that previously rotted on
the bottom shelves of video stores, or worse, lay dormant in a studio's
dilapidated vault. Even the more prominent moviemakers have had a chance to
revisit their careers and bodies of work, releasing special edition versions of
their classic titles with bonus material enhancing the context of their
vision.

But perhaps nowhere has the diamond-encrusted power of the Digital Versatile
Disc been better exploited than in the realm of the documentary. This
mostly-ignored medium, resigned to special festivals and little-seen PBS
screenings, has found happy hospice on the modern home theater format. And the
amazing thing is, people are actually buying, renting and owning these once
ill-considered films. The chance to see an amazing work like Brother's
Keeper, the molestation-meets-home movies of Capturing the Friedmans, or the fiery
rhetoric of Michael Moore just goes to show the power of DVD. Where once critics
had to beg and scream for someone to slink to a local art house to catch a
one-time showing of Hoop Dreams or Roger and Me, now an entire store shelf
is taken up with hundreds of general and genre-specific real-life stories.

Even short fact films are finding a place in the new digital domain. Last
year, the Full Frame Documentary Festival released a disc, representing the best
of the many submissions the cinematic carnival screens each year. Now they're
back with another collection, the appropriately named Full Frame Documentary
Shorts, Volume 2. And while it matches their first effort in scope and
subject matter, the documentaries leave a little something to be desired this
time around.

The Evidence

Started in 1997 by Nancy Buirski, a Pulitzer Prize-winning photographer and
editor at the New York Times, the Full Frame Documentary Film Festival
has, over the last seven years, become the premier showcase for non-fiction
filmmaking in America. During an annual three-day festival every April in
Durham, North Carolina, hundreds of artists and thousands of fans have a chance
to see and experience startling, fresh visions of the world and the people who
populate it. Either in a matter-of-fact fashion or an experimental storytelling
style, it's the reality of the subject that links these divergent, delightful
elements. With a board consisting of such filmmaking luminaries as Martin
Scorsese, Ken Burns, Jonathan Demme, D.A. Pennebaker, Martin Sheen, and John
Sayles, the quality of films is remarkable.

The DVD release Full Frame Documentary Shorts, Volume 2 is a second
helping (after 2003's magnificent Volume 1) of some of the most
interesting short films to be presented at the festival over the last year.
Varying in length and tone, these films run the gamut from astonishingly
personal to universally obtuse. As an overall package presentation, this is a
fascinating DVD sampler. Individually, the films each have their positive (and
occasionally negative) attributes. Discussed and scored separately, we begin
with:

• Crowfilm (2003) Video: 90 Audio: 90
Story: 25 Judgment: 70

We tend to measure mileage based on the rate of travel by these winged
odometers. There were supposedly 24 of them baked in a pie for a certain king. A
single member of this biological order sang in the dead of the night, and then
took its broken wings and learned to fly. But thanks to Edward Davee's
experimental hodgepodge of images and ideas, the crow has never looked this
enigmatic. Instead of stereotyping them as the bottom feeders of the bird world,
Davee makes a declarative statement regarding crows' artistic qualities.

In general, there is nothing wrong with environment-based films. Sometimes,
the scintillating "nature" of the subject matter helps to overcome the
National Geographic cinematic approach. Sadly, Crowfilm contains
very few of these ethereal elements. Its focus on the notorious blackbirds that
seem to make up the vast majority of the aviary population is matched by a
rather dull directing mannerism. Davee, the man behind this mania, uses several
differing film stocks, various cameras and interesting (and irritating)
exposures to try and give his basic birdwatcher's compendium an inventive flair.
All this attempted ambiance does, though, is muddle up whatever message he was
driving at. Okay, crows are creepy. But borrowing many of Hitchcock's visual
compositions (from the Master of Suspense's own fine feathered fright flick)
does not connote an original thought. Crowfilm is too insular to be
inviting. The magic of the mise-en-scene used here is only in Davee's deranged
head.

Visually, Crowfilm is a very atmospheric attempt, a monochrome mixed
media montage, bringing a stoic sense to this rather simple subject. The 1.33:1
full frame transfer can be a bit muddy at times (given to the original elements
utilized here), but overall, the look and feel of the film (including the
strange, evocative music) is much better than the content featured.

Helen Penuel is a resident of the Enterprise Nursing Home, deep in the heart
of Alabama. The 80-something lady has been selected as a participant in the
Statewide Ms. Alabama Nursing Home pageant. As a matter of fact, she is a
"pre-selected" semi-finalist, based on her application and picture. As
the big contest approaches, she and several members of the staff travel to
Birmingham to prepare. There, they meet the rest of the participants, and as
with every other beauty pageant, tempers and egos flare.

Perhaps the two most amazing bits of information we learn from the Ms.
Alabama Nursing Home short have nothing to do with the lonely life of the
aged in the managed care facilities of America. No, the first fascinating
element occurs when we learn that Helen is a finalist in the State pageant.
Suddenly, the administrative staff members are all her best, closest friends,
ready with competitive advice about winning the title. Everything from smiling
more, to preparation for the typical beauty pageant question, becomes paramount
in the mind of these stage mother nurses. The other interesting insight comes
after the spectacle, when Helen has returned to her room and the glare of the
spotlight is gone. Turning to the camera, our happy-go-lucky elderly lady claims
that it was the "colored" on the judging panel that cost her the crown
(she came in second runner-up). As a matter of fact, she continues, she expected
the "colored" contestant to win, since she had at least two shoe-in
votes. These amazingly crass comments coming after all the goodwill we've
witnessed during Ms. Alabama Nursing Home hurt, since they show that,
even in what seem like enlightened times, trademark Southern
prejudice—especially that based in the deep South—still exists in
strident certainty. It's this final insight that taints the proceeding
pleasantries we've witnessed in this interesting film, a chance to view the
events that passed before (including looks and comments) in a whole new
light.

The direct from video transfer makes for a more immediate movie experience
than with other filmed elements. The non-anamorphic 1.66:1 letterboxed transfer
is bright, colorful, and clear. All the dialogue and droning ambiance of the
trip and the contest are excellently captured and everyone's pleasant—and
private—personality comes across here.

• Nutria (2002) Video: 85 Audio: 85
Story: 80 Judgment: 84

A rat is a rat, unless it's a swamp rat, in which case it's called a nutria.
This web-footed rodent living in the bayous and backwoods of Louisiana has
become a kind of unofficial state animal, an anointed nuisance with resident
status. Officials try to hunt and/or destroy nutrias. Schools use them as
mascots. Some people have even tried to domesticate them. But when famous New
Orleans chefs attempt to put the pond possums on their upscale menus (in an
effort to control the population), the citizenry responds with green-gilled
rejection. Seems the nutria is the animal Louisianans love to hate…even
when it's on their plate. And they say Cajuns will eat anything.

On his show Insomniac, Dave Attell visited New Orleans and rode with
some Louisiana Animal Control officers as they went on a citywide nutria hunt.
Watching these cops casually and carelessly blast the oversized rats out of the
water, a mixed message of mirth and misery was illustrated. Certainly it was
cruel to shoot the shinola out of these beasts. But the overall size and density
of the overpopulation problem makes the marksmanship that much more
futile…and funny. Nutria is a fascinating, frisky look at how the
parishes and people of Louisiana are trying, desperately, to come to grips with
this enormous bog beaver. Just watching the attendees of a food festival choke
down bowls of nutria gumbo (or better yet, the cook who accents his swamp mouse
stew with "other" meats, like chicken, shrimp, octopus, and crawdad,
rendering the nutria content moot) shows the "anything goes" attitude
in dealing with this dilemma. A little more background on how this oversized
pest came to Louisiana—and more importantly, thrived—would
have been nice. And the general good-natured attitude of most of the people
featured seems to go against the "we hate these things" thesis the
movie forwards. Still, as one of the funnier, sunnier entries on the disc, this
dissection of a wetlands weasel is very entertaining.

Director Ted Gesing gives this swamp saga a nice, if occasionally grainy,
filmed look with his 1.33:1 full screen image. Colors can sometimes fade or fog
in the washed-out visual palette. The sound is first rate, with all interviews
understandable and all bayou atmosphere kept in check.

• Album (2003) Video: 90 Audio: 90
Story: 95 Judgment: 92

The Mee family seemed like the typical suburban success story. Father was a
prominent doctor. Mother was a nurse until she married. Together, they lived an
idyllic life and had five seemingly normal kids. The family was fixated on
cameras and home movies. They filmed Christmas pageants and vacation hijinks.
But something was breaking beneath the surface of the Mee family, sinister
suggestions of drug abuse, alcoholism, adultery, and perhaps most harshly,
childhood schizophrenia. Through the use of old Super 8 snippets, filmed by the
family themselves, the Mees uncover their personal demons, letting them run
behind the ridiculously happy images. Sadly, this could be anyone's life
story.

Here is why compilations like Full Frame are so fantastic. This
simplistic saga, told through painfully frank interviews and old home movies, is
a more shocking, sad family drama than most fictional dramatizations. The Mees
are a study in sheltered shattering, a family falling apart out of the eyesight
of everyone, including themselves. When the tiny cracks appear (Dad's addiction
to painkillers, the youngest son's mental unrest), the juxtaposition of the
nostalgic images of the past make the material that much more heartbreaking.
Without giving too much away, the Mees represent the hidden horror of the
American family, the failure of the individual over the entire biological unit.
When we see the remaining members as they are now (and learn the fate of other
offspring), the entire thesis of the movie hits home. We've all had times like
the ones the Mees filmed for their own enjoyment. And we've all had hardships
and horrors like they've faced as well. Life is not the images from a Super 8
projector. They are the memories, both happy and sad, from all experiences.

Barbara Bird, director and member of the Mee family, has crafted a
masterpiece of lost artifacts with this film. Though the 8mm footage is flawed
and faded, it is the perfect choice for the 1.33:1 full frame image here. The
interviews are all handled with expert aural aplomb, and the overall impression
one gets from this film is like eavesdropping on a group therapy session with
audiovisual highlights.

• Wood Island (2001) Video: 90 Audio: 80
Story: 70 Judgment: 80

There is a tiny community near Logan Airport in Boston, a small village
filled with individuals from every walk of life. They live their daily existence
in the shadow of one of the busiest travel destinations in the world. Planes fly
overheard in a non-stop barrage of engine exhaust and jet fueled frenzy. But the
unbelievable level and consistency of the noise doesn't seem to bother these
determined denizens. They will not let a little something like never-ending
takeoffs and landings spoil their piece of paradise. From the local bakery to
the religious statue and shrine, Wood Island is more than its aviation
annoyance. It's a neighborhood trying to survive.

What, exactly, was Wood Island supposed to be about? People
persevering over unreal circumstances? How everyday life is encroached upon by
technology? The large shrine to the Virgin Mary in town? The wonderful looking
homemade donuts from the corner shop? We really aren't sure, and this is why the
short film is not more magical. Wood Island seems to be a very nice place to
live, full of homespun spirit and small-town drive. But director Kate Williamson
only captures the very basics of her cinematic statement. We see the sound
problems (the ever-present drone of airplanes) and the residential response
(everything from home insulation to actual ignorance), but none of these
divergent elements come together in a profound or thought-provoking manner. Wood
Island could be anywhere in America, and it's this lack of a concrete focus that
finally scuttles the story being told. While it's nice to look at and very
picturesque, Wood Island has nothing beside its landing strip locale to
give it a claim to fame.

Shot in a 1.33:1 full screen aspect ratio and utilizing a print filled with
dirt and grain, the transfer of Wood Island is as indistinct as its
subject matter. There are several incredibly beautiful images (a tree in winter,
the shrine to Mary lit up at night), but overall the image is washed-out and
wanting. Sound is not a problem here. The audio issues are secure and
professional.

You've seen them around, on bulletin boards and lampposts—posters
offering help for losing weight, a change for your career path, or rooms for
rent. But these particular flyers have a very different flair to them. They
advertise basic items, like crackers or paper clips. The text is homemade and
the images hand drawn. And the price always seems right (10¢, 15¢).
The requisite phone number dangles from the bottom, crafted by carefully
clipping the edge with scissors. The question then becomes, who is selling this
stuff, and why? The answer is Geoff Lupo, a self-proclaimed social satirist who
uses these adverts as his art. Directors Anna Boden and Ryan Fleck try to make
some sense out of this "dollars for donuts" environmental
entrepreneur.

Perhaps a better title for this short snippet on the life of
"artist" Geoff Lupo is Would You Want to See a Film About This
Man? Geoff is a strange character, an enigmatic weirdo who somehow manages
to convince crafty, jaded New Yorkers to buy his stale crackers and plastic pen
lids. They're not handmade. They're not gold or jewel-encrusted. They are merely
items that can be purchased in any store. But as part of his
"artistic" statement about consumerism and the coldness of most
capitalist connections, they become icons to a more ironic sense of buying and
selling…some horse hockey like that. Someone once said that performance
art is like standup comedy without the jokes—this exactly describes Geoff
Lupo and what Have You Seen This Man? feels like. It's clever and
cunning, but it is a sensibility crafted out of a very cynical, mean-spirited
missive. If the notion of normal people with rational minds buying little pieces
of junk from a creative con man enflames your cinematic sense, by all means,
enjoy this joyless exercise in self-promotion. Otherwise, Have You Seen This
Man? makes no real point, except to highlight that artistic expression is in
the eye of the beholder. It's just too bad that, sometimes, that optical nerve
can be jaundiced as Hell.

The 1.33:1 video-to-film image is interesting, in that it avoids a lot of
the elements associated with digital capture (flaring, pixelating) while
offering a real cityscape feel. The ambiance of Manhattan really comes through
on this transfer. Several interesting songs are utilized throughout the course
of the short, and they are presented in a very nice Dolby Digital Stereo. Geoff
Lupo is very soft-spoken, and the microphone barely picks him up at times. But
the overall level of interaction with people is captured wonderfully.

On the 50th anniversary of the battle for Iwo Jima, veterans from both sides
of the conflict return to the tiny Japanese island to relive and remember that
awful episode near the end of World War II. Utilizing archival footage, personal
possessions, interview footage, and narrative recreations, the cruelty and
carnage of this most bloody of battles is brought to life for future generations
to witness firsthand. The personal stories are harrowing, the loss
heartbreaking, and the military footage utilized expands our notion of this
cruel combat beyond that classic Time-Life pose of the Marines raising
the American flag.

Sure, the History Channel and Discovery do this kind of riveting
recollection documentary in their sleep. Still, it's an evocative viewing
experience when it comes along. Iwo Jima: Memories in Sand does a
remarkable job of capturing the individual terror experienced by the soldiers on
both sides of the conflict. The reading of prepared letters (to be sent to loved
ones in case of a soldier's death) is just startling. Hearing the Japanese
children's letters to their own soldiers shows us a side of the war we usually
don't view. While it would have been nice to see more of the reunion (including
some human interaction—most of the reminiscences seem to be man vs.
island), at least we get to view battlefields and seashores riddled with the
bodies of fallen heroes. There is high emotion here too. Many of the elderly
veterans cry easily and often, recalling the horrible loss of life on these
bloody fields of fire. While its history may be pedestrian and its presentation
a tad too lecture-like, as long as we focus on the real people behind this piece
of history, Iwo Jima is a remarkable, respectful testament to the bravery
and boldness of the participants in World War II.

Visually, the mix of archival stock footage and newly shot imagery comes
together perfectly to paint a very complete view of the Iwo Jima story. The
1.33:1 film transfer is clean, clear and very color-correct. The island is eerie
in its black sand solemnity. And the interviews offer their confessional takes
in complete aural authority. We never lose a single, important word of wisdom
from these true survivors.

Overall, the short films on Full Frame are not as exceptional as the
first DVD compilation. The films here do have their educational, amazing, and
even breathtaking moments. They try to paint worlds and show people previously
unknown to the viewer. But one can't help but think there were better examples
of the fact-filled film than the mostly mediocre movies here. Crowfilm is
a good example of what is wrong with this set. Using a scattershot approach to
its subject, hoping that ethereal images alone will carry the piece, this is an
excuse for—not an actual example of—a full-blown documentary. Simply
showing nature interacting with your Paintshop skills is not a realistic view of
the subject or its specific universe. Album does the same thing, but it's
successful because it has a story to tell, a specific insight into the decaying
suburban landscape that sings louder and better than the bird BS. And as good as
Iwo Jima is, it does suggest a submission for a specialty cable
channel.

From Wood Island's wasted opportunities to Have You Seen This
Man?'s unfortunate focus, the material here reeks of the recycled, of ideas
and issues done better by others before. Even when set in the secluded world of
nursing homes, we learn virtually nothing about care for the elderly (and
everything about that odd desire for indirect celebrity). And even with all the
supposed backstory about the Tabasco king and his love of wildlife, we fail to
understand the ancestry of Louisiana's nutria population. Just because the topic
is unique does not make the movie equally compelling. Full Frame Documentary
Shorts, Volume 2 proves that not all factual films supplant fiction as
fundamental entertainment.

The Rebuttal Witnesses

Commentary. That is what each of these documentary shorts needed. As does the
Rebuttal Witness in the first Full Frame review, we note that lack of
alternative audio tracks really undermines the presentation of these films. No
other cinematic skill demands more in-depth discussion on how it came about than
the non-fiction short film. How many hours of footage were shot? The cooperation
(or lack thereof) of the subject? How did you achieve certain moments? Was
anything "staged"? These are the questions that roll around the mind
of a viewer as they sample these shorts. And it would have been nice to let each
filmmaker comment on the beginning, middle, and final reception of their work.
Unfortunately, one fears that cost, time, or compression issues squelched what
would have been a wonderful extra bonus for this set. While each filmmaker here
gets a brief step-through biography accompanying his or her film (actually, it's
the set's only extra, aside from distributor Docurama's catalog and trailers),
that information is just the tip of the iceberg. Documentarians are unsung
heroes of cinematic storytelling. It would have been nice to give them a voice
here.

Closing Statement

Perhaps DVD is also responsible for the less-than-stellar set of short films
offered on Full Frame, Volume 2. Maybe the ready availability of
distribution and avenues of revenue are keeping the truly quality entries from
turning up on these tribute discs. Why share the wealth, the fame, and the
exposure with other artists when you can cull a few student works, add in a
commercial or experimental project, and release your own documentary disc? So as
the popularity of the DVD format increases (and the cost of making discs
decreases), more and more artists will choose the independent avenue to promote
their own films.

All this means that Full Frame has its work cut out for it. As it finds more
and more of its discoveries going off to find their own place in the product
line, the festival promoters will have to dig deeper into their archive, casting
off the more mundane aspects of their entries to give us the raw, the realistic,
and the unrelenting.

Or maybe it's something else. Maybe this new window into the world of
documentary filmmaking is merely showcasing what critics and fans knew all
along: not every fact film is worth memorializing. The wealth of material made
available thanks to DVD has also crowded the corridors of concentration, making
it difficult to distinguish what is good from what is merely given. Full
Frame Documentary Shorts, Volume 2 does not resort to providing us leftovers
from this celebrated entity. But it does run the risk of ruining a good
reputation with some less-than-impressive titles. Here's hoping Volume 3 returns
to the first entry's creative consistency. Otherwise, nothing, not even DVD,
will prevent the documentaries' downfall.

The Verdict

While fundamentally flawed and not as insightful as Volume 1, Full Frame
Documentary Shorts, Volume 2 is hereby found not guilty and is free to go.
Docurama is sentenced to 60 days of intense alternative narrative track therapy
at the Commentary Correctional Facility of Talkative County.

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